


52 Pick-Up

by albawrites



Series: On the Way to Piltover [7]
Category: League of Legends
Genre: Anal Sex, Light Bondage, M/M, Porn With Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-26
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-08-11 02:22:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7872280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/albawrites/pseuds/albawrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They arrive at Piltover at long last! But of course, there are still pirates to deal with, cops that may want to arrest them, but Twisted Fate and Graves finally have made it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Lovers

**Author's Note:**

> RATING: Mature. Explicit sex is involved.  
> DISCLAIMER: None of the characters are owned by the author, simply written for amusement and the fact that I wasn't satisfied with the lack of stories with these two. Their adventure continues here.  
> NOTES: Here we are, the final part! Final notes and thoughts will be shared in part two.

While paperwork has never been her forte in terms of being an officer of the law, it doesn't mean that Vi has never risen to the challenge. In the early days, Caitlyn remembers being frustrated with Vi's lack of professionalism, which eventually was just evidence of her seeking to perform her better strengths than settle down on the quiet mornings to arrange reports. Caitlyn had never been one to goad someone into something, so she had ended up giving her goals to train and convince her the necessity of keeping their books organized. 

It's still Vi's great weakness, but at least she does it willingly.

From her desk, Caitlyn is certainly not smiling and certainly not endeared by her partner as she watches her work. Vi has a thoughtful frown, her nose wrinkled as she chews at the end of her pencil before she keeps working. Maybe punching criminals in the face is her best skill, but it doesn't mean Vi can't do anything else.

It just takes a bit of patience.

Things in Piltover are rarely all that quiet. Jinx is still at large, and there are always others who break the law to suit their needs or have met themselves in desperate times. For now, though, there is nothing urgent that requires their attention.

If Vi's weakness is paperwork, perhaps Caitlyn's is being a bit of a workaholic. That, she knows too, and she certainly has realized the times in which Vi has convinced her to take it easy.

For now, perhaps she should make the choice herself.

"Vi," Caitlyn speaks up. "You've been at that awhile. We can finish after brunch?"

"I still don't think _brunch_ is a real word, cupcake," Vi says wryly, grinning. There's a pause, then she drops her pencil. "Wait, seriously? We're breaking?"

"You do tend to focus better when you're not... what was the term you used?"

"Hangry."

Caitlyn can't hide a tiny smile, quietly amused, the irony not escaping her. "Right, it was eloquently put. Shall we?"

"Oh hell yeah!" Vi pushes herself out of her seat, practically leaping to the door. After opening it, she gives a dramatic bow. "After you, Your Cupcakeliness."

The Sheriff of Piltover nods politely in turn, stepping out the door, quickly followed by her partner.

After all, there should hopefully be no surprises today.

 

-=-=-

 

"Hell, we made it! _That's_ a surprise. Felt like we'd never get here."

"Not like we didn't have pirates gettin' in our way at every turn or anything, Malcolm."

The last time that Graves had been to Piltover, it had to have been months ago awhile he was still chasing Twisted Fate across the continent, blind with murderous rage and determined to get even with his old partner. A little over a week ago now, and he'd agreed to work him again, and a few days ago _more_ than that; he'd never imagined he'd be back here _with_ Twisted Fate, watching the zeppelins in the air and the busy streets of the City of Progress.

It's almost a bit like coming home again, more than any day he'd spent in Bilgewater. Their best heists had been pulled in Piltover, frustrating the local law enforcement and swindling the most prideful of the upper class. From the way Twisted Fate gazes over the street, Graves suspects that his partner feels similarly. There's a distinct smile in his eyes, the subtle glow of them coming off just a bit more fiercely.

The first order of business is to get a roof over their heads. In terms of where they're staying for the night, it'd been a brief argument; Twisted Fate turning his nose up at the first establishment Graves pointed out, which may or may not have had a leaky roof and the door was barely on the hinges but Graves found it to be reasonably priced and his partner being less than reasonable. He sure as hell isn't in any mood to spend unnecessary coin on the first pricey hotel with its best suite just because it suits Twisted Fate's rich tastes, and it took time for them to come to a middle. Eventually, they did come to an agreement before moving onto their next task.

Secondly is finding the gunsmith: it's been sometime, but he remembers Ceecee and where to find her. Her workshop location hasn't changed remotely in the past several months, and neither has her energy. It's the same smell of gunpowder and oil, the same soot smeared over her face, and the same crooked sign inviting people in, so worn and off-center yet welcoming. From behind, Graves could recognize her, hair forced back with a bandanna to keep it out of her face, and the way she's bouncing around her modestly sized stand. Twisted Fate would earn enough money to buy him the finest threads in all of the continent, but Graves has often known that it's not the cost -- it's the _quality_.

"Be right there!" she calls out as she searches through her drawers.

"I'd believe that if y'didn't have the attention span of a gnat," Graves says flatly.

She goes still, then turns around slowly. Enormous, smudged goggles cover most of her face before she's shoving them up. 

Then Ceecee lets out a noise that could only be described as a _shrill._

"Lively, isn't she?" Twisted Fate muses from behind.

" _Graves!_ " Ceecee runs over to her counter, slamming her gloved hands down. "You're in one piece! Blimey, last I saw you, you scrammed outta Piltover like a bat out of..."

She trails off suddenly, then frowns before pointing _over_ Graves' shoulder. "What's _he_ doin' here?!"

"You know, I usually only get that kind of reception until _after_ a game of cards," Twisted Fate says, not sounding bothered at all.

Graves rolls his eyes at the thief before he's approaching the gunsmith. "Ceecee, _relax._ We got things sorted out, an' I got job for you."

"You sure he ain't trickin' you?" Ceecee squints at T.F., rubbing her chin and smearing more oil and soot on herself unintentionally. "He sort of tricksy, isn't he?"

"Oh, that part ain't changed any." Graves shoots the other man a look over his shoulder. With no shame, T.F. tips his hat with his ever-present smug look. "Nah, listen. We left Bilgewater together. I dunno that you heard what happened, but about Destiny--"

"What, she need another tune-up?"

Graves taps his fingers on the counter. "She needs to be _replaced_ , seein' as how she's on the bottom of the ocean in Bilgewater."

" _Cripes._ "

"Yeah. That's not gonna be a problem, is it?"

Ceecee peels off her goggles and shakes her head. "Oh, no no. No problem. Just gonna take me more time puttin' together somethin' brand new than just fixin' up what you already had. I can do it, but yer gonna have to wait a bit."

"Ain't like we're leavin' Piltover anytime soon. Shouldn't be an issue," Twisted Fate says. 

The gunsmith scoffs and turns her nose up at T.F. "I ain't talkin' to you. _Graves_ is my customer."

That causes T.F. to clutch his chest dramatically, like he'd been shot in the heart. "Colder than the Freljords, this one!"

"How long should I give ya, Ceecee?" Graves interrupts.

Turning her attention back to the gunman, Ceecee folds her arms and thinks for a moment. "Gimme three days at most and it ought'a be done. And you're gonna owe me an explanation later why this garbage is followin' you around!"

When they both leave Ceecee's shop, Twisted Fate just lets out a low chuckle. "And how many wicked stories did you spin her to make her so sour on me?"

" _Spin?_ I just gotta tell the truth and anyone would know you for the damn snake you are," Graves says flatly.

There is no sign of hurt in Twisted Fate's eyes, not when he smirks, rolling with the banter comfortably. Completely unflappable, which is both endearing and frustrating as ever. "You're a real heartbreaker, hotshot."

"I liked it best when she called you garbage," Graves says, making sure his voice is drawling with as much sweetness as he can feign before he's dragging the gambler down for a kiss.

 

-=-=-

 

In reality, it hasn't been that long since the last time he had his hands on T.F. in some intimate way, but it somehow does feel like it's been ages anyway. Once the door had closed behind them when they made it to their room at the inn, having the thief to himself is all Graves could immediately think of. He doesn't consider even looking inside the room. It's significantly less interesting than anything else on his mind as he turns and practically slams Twisted Fate against the shut door, dragging his teeth over the taller man's throat, tasting his skin and smelling his disgustingly expensive cologne.

"Couldn't wait, could you?" T.F. murmurs, sounding prideful.

"Don't let it get to your head," Graves growls, knowing it's too late for that anyway. He bites down before he's encourage to tip his head back, Twisted Fate's lips meeting his; the kiss is _hungry_ as they go, the edge of his canine biting down on T.F.'s lower lip while he feels the thief sneak his tongue by, briefly.

His hands fist the front of T.F.'s coat, and Graves is dragging him along before pressing him into the bed. Like this, Twisted Fate should look far less than graceful, his hat knocked off and having landed just at the edge of the mattress, his dark hair splashed across the sheets and his coat bunched under him, and _yet_ somehow with the smirk on his lips he doesn't come off as anything else, like nothing could ruin his image. With a growl, Graves presses down again to capture the other man in a fierce kiss. Against his mouth, he can feel Twisted Fate laughing, quiet and self-assured before digging his fingers into Graves' shorter hair, the tugs hardly painful. 

There's a creaking noise. The bed, probably.

Their mouths part and Twisted Fate is breathing a little more heavily, letting out a shudder as Graves kneels down against him. When he starts to unbutton T.F.'s vest, he feels the thief stiffen before grabbing onto Graves' wrists. "Malcolm, wait."

"What? I didn't bust one of your buttons," Graves grumbles, mouthing against his collarbone. Quickly, T.F.'s grip in his hair tightens, forcing him back. "The _hell_ \--"

Twisted Fate sits up sharply and reaches for the bedside lamp, turning it on, and Graves quickly sees why he'd been stopped.

Illuminating the chair nearby is one of the most infamous figures of Bilgewater next to the late Gangplank: Sarah Fortune -- _Miss_ Fortune, as she'd become. Her legs are crossed, and the way she looks in the chair she looks downright damned _regal_. Her gaze is sharp, and there's a horridly amused expression playing upon her face as she looks over the both of them.

"You can keep going if you need to, boys," Fortune says, smiling.

While Graves is quickly pushing himself off of the bed to get back to his feet, Twisted Fate is much more languid and lazy, taking his time to brush down his coat and vest, readjusting himself just enough without bothering with the buttons. 

"Well well. To what do we owe the pleasure?" T.F. says.

As opposed to Graves, who demands in a snarl, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Like hot and cold." Fortune laughs quietly, not standing, as if that was beneath her. "I see you two made it out of Bilgewater more or less in one piece. _Shame_ about Gangplank."

"I'm sure you had plenty of regrets 'bout him," T.F. says airily, very surely knowing otherwise. "As heavy as a few cannonballs?"

Fortune tips her head down, her eyes hidden but her grin remaining clear under the lamp's light. "You should be thanking me, Fate."

It sinks in slowly. While Graves hadn't given any real thought as to _who_ precisely took out Gangplank, Twisted Fate had obviously thought about it days ago, made an evaluation, and conclusion, and just kept it to himself because it was the past and Graves sure as hell put it behind him. But then, that raised other questions. Who put Twisted Fate up to the job to steal from Gangplank? Who sent Graves the letter about T.F.'s whereabouts?

Back then, while they played cat and mouse in the streets of Bilgewater, Twisted Fate said they had been played. At the times, Graves was too damned blind with anger to care then, but now it connects for him. Captain Sarah Fortune played all of them like fools: Gangplank, Twisted Fate, and Graves.

"It was you!" Graves snaps, temper flaring.

Smoothly, Twisted Fate just says, "You owe me a new pair of boots."

Fortune taps her fingers on the armrest. "Boys, it was nothing personal. You got out alive, mostly unscathed, and Gangplank's gone with the Bearded Lady. Hell, by the looks of things, you two made up _very nicely_ ; maybe you should be thanking me for that too. In any case, right now, you should be asking the more important question."

Graves frowns to himself. T.F. had already asked why she was here, and she hadn't really answered. As angry as he is with her, she is clearly here with a purpose. No manipulations, Fortune herself being present for _something._

"Gangplank's followers. The last of 'em, anyway," Graves says.

"You figured it out yourself. I'm so proud, hotshot," Twisted Fate says, grinning down at him.

"Shut up."

Fortune nods. "The last of those pigs still need to be gutted. They blame you two. I want them dead and gone, and they've followed you out this far. So, I figured we could come up with a solution together."

"I don't reckon that's an entirely smart move," Graves grates out. "Considerin' how you played us last time."

"And here I thought you'd be in a more forgiving state of mind, what with you two being so close now." Fortune's gaze turns to T.F., addressing the more scheming half of the duo. "Fate?"

For a moment, T.F. looks thoughtful, folding his arms and taking in a deep breath. The expression is all too familiar to Graves: Twisted Fate is thinking, calculating, debating the pros and cons of his decision that would affect both of them. Eventually, with a smile, he shrugs and says, "An' how about my boots? Think you could replace 'em?"

"Really," Fortune says flatly.

"They cost me-- well, a fortune." Twisted Fate grins at her.

With a sigh, Fortune stands up, her chin tipped up in a proud stance. "I'll be around in Piltover if you change your minds and get a little more serious about this."

"I am a very serious man," Twisted Fate responds, his voice implying otherwise.

"I'll see you around, boys." Fortune struts to leave. "Try not to have too much fun," is said before the door is shut.

A moment of silence slowly sinks into the room, and Graves processes what has transpired. The pirates are, apparently, still around, and while he can't imagine that there are many left there's still enough that they outnumber two men. While Fortune is offering to help them deal with the leftovers of Gangplank's loyalists, Graves is quick to distrust her offer. He expects it would come back around and bite them in the ass anyway.

But Twisted Fate never exactly told her no.

"What're you thinkin'?" Graves demands of his partner.

"That I'm definitely wearin' too many clothes right now."

An annoyed growl escapes him and he gives T.F. a harmless shove. " _Tobias._

In return, Twisted Fate shrugs and slips off his coat. "Look, the way I figure, she's gonna try to use us regardless. Willingly or not, she's planning something. Ain't usual that I get played, and I ain't about to underestimate her. So, I figured I'd see what hand she plays and work off of that. That means waiting. Which I know is your worst skill, so we can kill a bit of time, can't we?"

Per usual, Twisted Fate has given this a lot of thought, working his mind into planning. Often as it is frustrating, it's also _why_ their partnership had worked so well. T.F. has always been cunning and clever, especially whenever Graves' temper had gotten the better of him. He looks over the thief, not speaking yet, just _looking_ at him, finding himself in a rare moment of admiring. Not just his intelligence, but how his long hair is draped over his shoulders, long and always impossibly silky no matter what environment they'd been in. The years have been good to Twisted Fate, better than they've been to Graves, and he's still handsome and he still knows it.

The difference is that now he finds himself truly appreciating it. Who knew convincing himself to trust this man again would be this satisfying? Or this emotionally _involving._ Maybe that's why he took it so bad all those years ago. It wasn't just the sting of betrayal. A part of him had been broken, and not quite right until they both met each other halfway.

Damn him, but Graves loves this crafty bastard.

He reaches for Twisted Fate, his rough fingers sliding against his cheek, too smooth and fine. The playful smirk on T.F.'s face softens into a comfortable smile, more open. Wordlessly, Graves leans down, kissing him, taking in how the other man sighs against him.

Their lips are barely apart and he feels Twisted Fate murmur against him: "That's the spirit, Malcolm."

As far as they're both concerned, they have all of the time in the world right now. There is nothing outside of the door that Graves wants to deal with, and keeps his focus on T.F., pressing him down onto mattress and taking another kiss. He can fool himself into thinking he has control, but truly he knows how Twisted Fate can drive him wild, teasing him in any way he'd like to get what he wants, or vocalizing every little grunt and groan to rile him up perfectly.

T.F. is right. They're wearing too much clothing.

Graves has thrown his cape to the floor, his hands finding T.F.'s vest again while his teeth sink into his neck, tongue pressing up against the thief's pulse. He doesn't think, he doesn't _want_ to think right now, and forces the vest open with Twisted Fate's shirt, shoving both off of his shoulders.

"Malcolm--" T.F. grumbles, but he says nothing else, can't when Graves is kissing him.

Everything else comes off between them, with Graves' impatience and Twisted Fate's quick and precise hands, and he's left with just the skin of each other, familiar now and incredibly warm. He runs his hands down both of T.F.'s sides before he's squeezing his narrow hips, pulling them together with a shuddering. It's rough and without finesse, but he hears no complaints. If anything, Twisted Fate is letting out a sigh, hooking his legs around Graves' waist to keep them snug, cocks pressed together in a strange angle but doesn't cause any discomfort. Far from it.

Clever fingers smooth up Graves' belly before teasing a nipple. "Got a thought for you, hotshot," T.F. says, grinning when Graves grunts against him, jerking at the feeling earned by sensitive flesh being played with. Eventually, Graves smacks his hand.

"Yeah?"

"Get your belt." T.F. is squirming a little in his hold before rolling up against him, making Graves growl. "For tyin'," Twisted Fate clarifies.

Graves feels his blood go cold at that, and he stares down at T.F. It doesn't seem to take much for his partner to put it together, how the concept might not sit well with him. It's surprisingly soft and _affectionate_ how T.F.'s hand finds the side of Graves' face, touching gently, reassuring.

"Not you," T.F. promises, his brows knitting, like he's not sure how much to look concerned. Showing his hand is not typical, but Graves notices. "C'mon, it ain't like you never wanted to tie me up, right?"

Relief sinks into his bones, more than Graves cares to say. "How effective is that gonna be? Nothin' short of chains keep you down."

"I'll play nice." Twisted Fate gives him a knowing smile. "I ain't goin' anywhere. I'm right where I wanna be."

Quietly, he leans in, taking in a biting kiss before he's grabbing his belt from the floor where it'd been left with the rest of his clothes. There is no wrenching Twisted Fate around, as he remains pliant as Graves takes his skinny wrists, gently squeezing them before he's tying his hands against the head board of the bed. As Graves leans back to look down at T.F., he has to admit that this works _incredibly_ well for him, the dark leather keeping the trickster's hands to himself. While Graves has no doubt that T.F. can escape anytime he damn well pleases, the notion of having him to himself is gratifying.

It's not a bad idea.

Carefully, he pries off Twisted Fate's legs off of his hips before he's working his way down, pressing kisses down his abdomen as he goes. Eventually, Graves settles at T.F.'s hip, biting down on the skin there, suckling hard enough to bruise as Twisted Fate grunts and shifts against him. A hand keeps the gambler pinned to the bed, the other lazily teasing the curve of T.F.'s cock before tweaking the head a little.

"Shit," Graves hears him hiss softly, his voice deeply appreciating the attention he's receiving. Frankly, he can rarely think of a time that T.F. hasn't enjoyed being lavished in attention, and this time is no different as he continues to work, worrying his teeth into skin and sucking harder, leaving his bite mark clearly. Unseen by a common eye, but he knows, and damn that's more satisfying than he'd expect.

His grip tightens at the base of the other man's cock, squeezing faintly and earning a choked sound from T.F., his hips twitching and trying to move but still braced down against the mattress.

Graves grins at him.

"Asshole," Twisted Fate says, sounding downright fond.

"Takes one to know one."

"Uh-huh. Where you goin' with this rodeo now, hotshot?"

"Probably going to make the innkeeper regret havin' thin walls," Graves drawls, which causes Twisted Fate to bark out a laugh.

It takes no matter of time to find the lube, something he's grown used to keeping on his person now since they started this whole damned thing together. Gritting his teeth, Graves applies the slick to himself, trying to ignore the smooth, pleasant feeling over himself. When he leans over to press the tip of his finger against T.F.'s hole, the thief jerks a little before he's looking down at Graves. It's a gaze he knows too well, a keen look in T.F.'s eye, like he's ready to challenge Graves.

"No need for that," Twisted Fate murmurs. "C'mon, Malcolm."

For a moment, he's disinclined to listen. Despite the mess between them that's gone on for years, Graves has zero interest in harming Twisted Fate now or anytime soon, and would feel more comfortable in making sure it stays that way. But then, T.F. seems awfully _confident_ to encourage him to go in like this. Sure, he's slicked up, but he hasn't even worked in anything for Twisted Fate yet.

"That so?" Graves says instead, grabbing his thighs and spreading his legs apart, pressing the tip just against him. "You want it like this?"

With a typical shit-eating grin, Twisted Fate says, "I ain't stammerin'."

There's a surge in Graves, like a wave of _want_ , desiring to knock that smug look off of his face and make him cry out loud enough to maybe earn a few complaints from any potential other patrons of the inn. It _is_ a challenge from Twisted Fate, and hell if Graves ever stepped down from any he's made.

His fingers grip Twisted Fate's thighs tight, enough to bruise and leave lasting marks. Holding his breath and steeling himself, Graves _presses_ , bit by bit, and soon enough the tight heat consumes the head of his cock as he slips in. It's not quite as smooth as before, a bit more snug, but he's slicked up enough that he can edge in without actually hurting Twisted Fate. Briefly, he wonders how this must feel for him. Is it a bit rougher? Grittier? Graves is left to wonder, instead focusing on inching his way inside.

Finally, he's pressed up to the hilt, and he feels Twisted Fate sigh. For a moment, all he can see is just how he's buried into the other man, and _damn_ if that doesn't just send a wave of heat down to his belly. Graves looks up toward his partner's face: strands of dark hair have fallen down in front of his eyes, T.F.'s lips are parted as he breathes heavily with his brows knitted, his eyes glowing just a little more fiercely and his knuckles gone white with how they're fisted. A small roll of Graves' hips are given, and Twisted Fate groans low and soft, a nice familiar sound ringing in his ears. Shit if T.F. doesn't just get to him in all of the _right_ ways now.

Like a climb, he starts off with a careful pace, just giving a shallow thrust of his hips and earning soft sighs and approving glances, and all of it runs down his spine. Like this, T.F. is so damned tight, gripping him without his hands, like he's unwilling to just let go. Graves shudders and rocks in, just a bit harder, earning a louder moan.

Hell with it.

Graves is hooking both legs over his shoulders, quietly appreciating how stupidly flexible Twisted Fate is. Reaching up, Graves can hold onto the head board while getting closer to T.F., their faces inches apart like this. Sweat is slick to Twisted Fate's brow, keeping hair sticking to it, slowly becoming unraveled perfectly in Graves' arms just as he'd hoped and wanted, _wants._ With a growl, Graves thrusts in quicker, rougher, just enough to make the thief gasp again. The sound makes Graves' heart beat faster and he gives in to him, like he always does, shoving his hips against T.F.'s with more of his strength.

The frame jumps, hitting the wall as they go, and Twisted Fate is crying out under him. Skin is slapping on skin noisily like this, and at every motion T.F. is groaning, encouraging wordlessly, and Graves is utterly driven by it. Tying up Twisted Fate doesn't mean a damned thing over than he's given up control this time to Graves, and yet here he is, completely tangled up in his puppet strings to keep fucking him, driven by every yell, the noise from Twisted Fate's throat almost like a delighted scream.

He can't be bothered to care. It's what Graves wants too.

"Malcolm," Twisted Fate chokes out.

It strikes him harder than he expects, his heart lurching, and Graves curses when he bucks into T.F., spilling into him. He hears T.F. gasp, his hips twitching, and muscle spasms, _squeezing_ over Graves' cock unexpectedly when Twisted Fate follows him.

Hell. 

Graves lets out a sigh and eases out of the other man. He doesn't even have time to worry about undoing the belt; T.F. is already free, his fingers sliding into Graves' hair before pulling him down for a kiss. It's... incredibly soft, slow, and gentle. All the things that he'd have thought that wouldn't have belonged between the two of them, and yet here they are, and Graves presses into it.

Another kiss is granted by Twisted Fate, and they pull back enough to look at each other.

"You ripped my vest, you son of a bitch," T.F. says flatly, his eyes narrowed.

"Are you shitting me right now," Graves deadpans.

"It ain't cheap material! You owe me a new--"

"Shut up," Graves says, sighing as he smacks Twisted Fate with a pillow. Despite the other man's ridiculous priorities, Graves is smiling at him. Quick as he can, Graves is stealing another kiss before telling him, "Let's get your ass to the shower so you can preen, princess."

 

-=-=-

 

It's rolling into late morning when they're out again. The sun has already risen, relaxing beyond the horizon and pulling in the welcoming coolness before it becomes hotter in the afternoon. Far as Graves can figure, they've done all they can really be expected from yesterday: getting Destiny started, getting a room, unexpected guests, and-- well, _sex._ Maybe not a necessity, but by now he can't fathom stopping himself from wanting Twisted Fate in every aspect. In any case, they can start getting to work when Destiny is back in his hands. Twitch's piece of work just doesn't feel right to him.

Like this, it really does feel like some kind of odd homecoming. Back in Piltover, involved in something _romantic_ with the man who knows him best, working on getting a new gun made for him. In due time, they'll be pulling their jobs together, not unlike the old days.

"Ionian silk," Twisted Fate groans as they walk down the street, wearing a different vest. Frankly, it doesn't look that different than the one that Graves had ripped, maybe a hue darker.

"Quit your bellyachin'. If I know you, it ain't like you paid full price on it anyway."

"Might be so, but you still gotta make it up to me."

Graves rolls his eyes. "We both know your hat is your best feature anyhow."

A thoughtful hum is given before Twisted Fate says, "It is a mighty fine hat, but I dunno about best _feature._ "

"Without it, you're just kind of a sack of potatoes."

" _Malcolm_ ," T.F. says, giving a mock dramatic gasp. "Damn, that's rude."

That earns a low chuckle from Graves, who reaches out and pinches the other man's arm harmlessly. The banter isn't unusual, but now it feels more personal. Flirting? It's a bit like flirting now. Odd to consider, but it does truly feel more affectionate between them.

This kind of life, he thinks, he could settle into just damn fine.

Right now, the intent of hitting the town goes beyond simply having a stroll and teasing each other: finding good places to shake down and stake out are going to be important, and it's been sometime since Graves has cared to do that. Twisted Fate, on the other hand, has been keeping up on having a sharp eye on it, and making note of what to hit and how. They may not be able to top their caper from years ago, being the first and only pair of thieves that successfully stole from the Clockwork Vault, but they'll do well for themselves.

In the middle of their walk, there's a change in Twisted Fate's step and he glances across the street. Graves scowls and watches where his gaze is going through the hustle and bustle of people, and there it is: an all too familiar top hat and pink hair.

In that same moment, the Sheriff of Piltover's eyes catch onto Twisted Fate's. They widen, then Caitlyn's expression goes from surprise to fury, and she's not wasting any time in dropping the boxes in her arms to go rushing toward them.

"Now it feels like a welcome home, doesn't it?" Twisted Fate says cheerfully.

"C'mon!" Graves grumbles, yanking him by the sleeve.

From behind them as they start to book it, he can hear Caitlyn shout angrily, "Twisted Fate! Graves! Stop, in the name of the law!"

" **OR I'LL KICK YOUR ASS!** " Vi calls after enthusiastically.

"Well, they're the first people to not ask why we're travelin' together," T.F. points out as they hurry to round a corner.

"Hell of a silver lining," Graves drawls.

It was only a matter of time, he supposes. It's been awhile since he's had to worry about being recognized like this, and of course it had to be from law enforcement. It does feel a bit like old times like this, pissing off cops and escaping, _always_ escaping. Nothing really could keep the pair of them locked up.

Something like an explosion abruptly occurs directly in front of them; debris of stone and wood fly out from the wall of a store, but there isn't quite the smell of fire to go with it, but there is the familiar scent of smoke and powder. No, not an explosion. That was a _cannonball._ Who in the hell would be firing--

Graves looks across the way, and he can see the cannon that was aimed and fired, with men stationed by it. Distinctly _not_ Piltover's finest, but rather what is left of Gangplank's followers.

"Good to know how popular we are," Twisted Fate says in stride, as if he isn't shaken by the situation. Instead, he calls over his shoulder, "Ladies, y'all might wanna take cover!" Reaching out, he's grabbing a fistful of Graves' cape and pulling him down behind some crates. It isn't much, but at least the next shot misses them.

"And what manner of trouble have you dragged into Piltover?" Caitlyn demands, her rifle in her hands as she peers over a wall to get a good look.

"This time ain't really our fault, not that you're gonna be inclined to much believe me, buttercup--" Twisted Fate starts.

"None of your crap nicknames, Fate!" Vi snaps at him.

That almost catches Twisted Fate off guard, which would normally be amusing _if_ they weren't dealing with cops and pirates alike. Graves grumbles to himself when the pirates holler and start opening fire; the citizens are quick to get out of the way from the streets, letting out fearful cries as they leave it to the outlaws and the law to sort out the mess.

"Look, sheriff, I know we're not exactly high up on your list of friends," Twisted Fate says, "but you're gonna wanna deal with these guys before us. At least we aren't inclined to endanger civilians."

There's a conflicted look on Caitlyn's face as she takes aim and snipes at the pirates. Quietly, Graves has to hand it to her: she's a killer shot. "I'm not letting either of you go," she says finally, reloading, "but we have to deal with them first. Vi?"

"Hey, I'm with you, cupcake." Somehow, in the span of a few seconds, Vi's already armed with her impossibly enormous fists, the mechanisms clicking to life.

After Caitlyn's next shot, Vi is powering up her fist, prepared to charge in. With a shout, she's throwing herself across the way, and Graves can hear the pirates let out startled yells in return, clearly not expecting an angry cop to start pummeling them while her partner shoots.

Twisted Fate nudges Graves and mutters, "C'mon, we can bail."

Graves gives him a flat look. "Seriously."

"No reason why we can't let 'em clean up Gangplank's leftovers." 

It's not a bad point, and it figures that Twisted Fate would be looking for ways to form this into their benefit. If Caitlyn and Vi are preoccupied with the pirates and vice versa, there's no reason why they can't just let them fight each other and slip off into the day's crowd. Graves sighs and shrugs, giving his agreement, to which Twisted Fate grins sharply at him and motions him to follow as they keep their heads down and pace off away from both sides.

It isn't due to any sense of honor in Graves. Hell, far from it, and he knows incredibly well how much Caitlyn and Vi can take care of themselves. More in that the timing seems oddly _specific_ , and he remembers how Twisted Fate had concluded well that the pirates seem to be manipulated by someone smart. Smarter than anybody within Gangplank's crew, anyone left alive. Who _is_ pulling the strings? Graves frowns to himself as he follows T.F., feeling like he's missing something obvious.

It's too big of a coincidence. Miss Fortune here, running into Caitlyn and Vi, and now the pirates. What is it?

"Yer not gettin' away!" he hears a pirate snarl not far from them, the accent so familiarly Bilgewater that it almost stinks of the sea itself.

Graves looks at him only briefly. Tall, gangly, unsightly, missing teeth and a hand, but holding a gun. Twitch's firearm is too clunky to whip out in time, and he doesn't have Destiny's familiar weight yet. The next moment, he can only think to act in instinct. 

He is a fast man when he feels like it.

With his superior strength, he's throwing Twisted Fate to the ground, ensuring he's out of the way. He hears the gun go off, and a sharp pain enters Graves' side. Instead of yelling out, he clenches his teeth and his hands fly to where he's been shot, clutching it, feeling blood rush out between his fingers. For a second, he sees how Twisted Fate looks at him from the street, a strange and foreign and _rare_ look of actual fear. Fear for Graves' life.

But Graves is a man who goes down fighting. He always has been. Before Priggs and his men had dragged him away to lock him from the rest of the world for ten years, he took down as many of them as he could. The same absolutely could be said before Gangplank had captured them. The same is here, when Graves is taking out the gun. He can't fire it for shit, but he's swinging it brutally, wildly, a burst of strength in him as he smashes it against the pirate's face once, _twice_ , snarling at him.

And that's all he has in him before Graves is sinking down to his knees, coughing.

"Malcolm!" Never before has he ever heard Tobias sound like this. That, for once, he doesn't seem to know what to do.

Hell, Graves almost wishes he could have earned that a better way, he thinks to himself before he blacks out.


	2. The Chariot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With a bit of help, Twisted Fate deals with the remains of Gangplank's followers.

_"He and I are done, y'know."_

_Tobias didn't even look up as he continued to count their latest haul. "Yeah?"_

_With an irritated grumble, Kolt kicked at his chair before sitting across from him. "I was kind of expecting you to be more excited than that."_

_"What, you want a break-up party?"_

_"Look, Graves is gonna be stupid about you until you do somethin' about it." Kolt frowned at him. "I ain't dumb. I know you two got somethin'. Hell, I know how you look at 'im. Wallach and I both know it, and I never see you look at anyone else like that, Tobias."_

_His hands stiffened and he narrowed his eyes. "And how do I look at 'im?"_

_When he looked up, Kolt was simply giving him an impatient glare, tapping her foot. Eventually, she sighed and shook her head. "You're both idiots," she grumbled._

 

-=-=-

 

There are few times in which he could rightly say he'd ever been frightened, especially on behalf of someone else. When he was a boy, he was afraid of how to live in a world without the community of family and kin to support him. Years ago, he was afraid of how to live again without the one man he'd trusted. Right now, he's frightened _for_ Malcolm. All he can think in his mind is _please, please don't die_. Begging is not a habit he's ever gotten into, and prayers have been lost on Twisted Fate for ages, but right now he'd do just about anything to ensure that Graves _lives._

Which is why, despite himself, he's had to leave him again to law enforcement. Twisted Fate can count on Caitlyn's nature to keep Graves alive and get him medical care that Fate wouldn't be able to give him. Patching up from grazes and cuts are one thing, but the extensive care that he'll need is better off in the hands of a true surgeon.

He hates every bit of it, but abandoning him again is the only way to keep Malcolm alive.

Right now, Twisted Fate is sitting one of the seedier bars of Piltover. Still cleaner and nicer than just about any place in Bilgewater, but it still has some less than savory folks inside. He looks down at his shot glass, convincing himself that it's past noon at least somewhere in the world.

And yet, all he can think of was that moment that Graves took a bullet for him and that damned smug face of that pirate.

It's been hours since then. The pirates had retreated when back-up arrived for Caitlyn and Vi. In that moment, Twisted Fate had disappeared away, watching from a distance as they took Graves away for emergency care. Has it been enough time?

Or was it too late for him?

Either way, Twisted Fate knows he has to confront this head on, whether he wants to or not. He sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose. No matter how he looks at this, there's some kind of trap waiting for him; Caitlyn is definitely no-nonsense, and she will do her best to arrest him.

That means he needs a plan, and a good one.

"No time like the present," he murmurs to himself, downing the contents of his glass before standing. A few coins are deposited on the bar.

The next choice is made carefully after he'd taken the time to evaluate the men tending to their drinks. After a moment of calculation, he makes his choice, and Twisted Fate bumps his shoulder roughly into one of the other patrons, purposefully theatrical as he knocks into the other man. 

Two things occur: the patron spills his drink, and one of Twisted Fate's small purses drop of the floor. "Ah, sorry about that," he drawls, slowly getting his balance back, making a show of being more intoxicated than he really is. With a sway, he's crouching down to snag the little black bag from the floor, slowly rising to his feet and holding it up in front of the man. "Hey, buy yourself a round or two on me. No hard feelings."

It goes over well. The man takes the bag -- not filled with coins but with nuts and screws he'd swiped from Ceecee's shop when neither she nor Graves were paying much attention -- and turns away, none the wiser to anything as Twisted Fate makes it out of the bar, having relieved the patron's dagger from his hip during the entire interaction.

When he stands outside, Twisted Fate gives the dagger a quiet approving look before sliding it up his sleeve for the moment. Between his fingers, he begins to twirl a card, taking in a deep breath as he begins to sense who and what is around him -- that promise of everything, knowing where people are.

More importantly, where Malcolm is. In a clinic, with Caitlyn and Vi waiting outside.

Regardless of who is there, he has to commit himself to this.

With a rush, he takes the plunge, transporting himself to appear before both the sheriff and her partner. His hands are held up in a surrendering gesture. "Sheriff," Twisted Fate greets Caitlyn, and watches Vi look incredibly tempted to sock him in the face. "And a howdy to you too, punchout."

"I had a feeling you would show yourself," Caitlyn says, her arms folded. "Question is, what did you think would happen after you arrived?"

The thing about dealing with Caitlyn is that the sheriff is no one's fool. She is cool, calm, collected and smart as hell. Fortunately, she is also incredibly by the book, making her a bit predictable. If Twisted Fate plays this right, he can make this work in his favor.

"Got a proposition for you both," Twisted Fate starts.

"And that already sounds like a bad idea," Vi growls. "Especially from the guy who just ditched his partner."

Twisted Fate chuckles a little. "Just hear me out. Neither one of you can catch me easily. What y'can do is take me in easily if I _surrendered._ If, and only _if_ you give me time to see Graves alone. Then come along with your little cuffs and arrest me."

An infamous thief offering himself out on a silver platter is going to be suspicious, and he knows it. In part, that's the intent; Caitlyn will wonder, but she will be severely tempted. She's frowning, thinking about it, weighing the pros and cons. Eventually, she stands up from her seat, folding her arms.

"I heard how you sounded when he was shot," she says finally.

Twisted Fate doesn't answer her.

So she continues with, "You left on your own. Either to save your own skin, or to save his."

"That ain't an answer, sheriff," Twisted Fate says, making himself sounding indifferent. He feels otherwise.

Another moment, and Caitlyn is considering. Briefly, she's looking at Vi, then Caitlyn closes her eyes and says, "Vi, search him. Remove any cards you find."

"Yeah? You wanna do this?" Vi says, scowling.

"Vi." Caitlyn looks at Twisted Fate now. "20 minutes _supervised_ , then you're surrendering. I'm not going to risk you running away."

It's not favorable, but he knows he's already pushing it as it is. Eventually, he shrugs and holds out his arms. "All right. Deal."

The search is fairly thorough, considering he has a ridiculous amount of pockets in his coat for Vi to go through. He's liberated of a few decks, and a few stray cards he'd tucked away out of habit and to make sure that they feel confident in their search. Eventually, Vi gives a shrug to Caitlyn before handing the cards over.

They let him inside the room, finally.

He can't remember the last time he'd ever seen Graves look this way. Paler than normal, completely unconscious -- definitely never hospitalized. At their worst moments running across the continent together, they'd bargain with small clinics at best or otherwise deal with their own injuries. Never like this, in some hospital bed, looking like he took a too close brush with death. Around Graves' wrist is a cuff, linked with the bed and keeping him there, just as he had predicted. Twisted Fate's heart wrenches and his throat tightens, all too glad that Piltover's finest can only see his back right now.

"The surgery was successful," Caitlyn informs him, and he almost doesn't hear her. "He pulled through just fine."

"What he makes up for in bein' stupid as hell is being too stubborn to call it quits," Twisted Fate murmurs wryly, unable to keep some fondness out of his voice. She didn't need to tell him anything, give him any comforts. For a moment, he wonders what Caitlyn's game is, but in truth she's not as cold as she presents herself.

He pulls up a chair, taking a seat next to where Graves continues to rest. Despite the two pairs of eyes watching his back, Twisted Fate places his hand over Malcolm's anyway, holding on, quietly observing how much _meatier_ and rougher it is than his own, which are slender and quick, smoother.

"You're a damned idiot," Twisted Fate says quietly. "Stupid as hell. What the hell did y'think I was gonna go and do if I ended up losin' you all over again, huh? I can't just go put _Twisted Fate_ back in the river and come up with somethin' better. What would I even call myself?"

It's quiet. Of course it is. All he can do is imagine how this conversation would go if Graves was actually awake, bantering with him. It would feel natural and comfortable. He sighs and presses his other hand to Malcolm's forehead. There's no reaction, unfortunately. He doesn't wake up. Probably won't for awhile. 

"Hell, you probably can't hear me. Probably what makes this easier, actually. I'm not someone who's much of a bleedin' heart." He snorts softly, smiling faintly despite the troubling position they're both in. "Not like you, hotshot. Always gotta do things your own way. You're a real pain in the ass."

He removes his hand from Graves' brow. His hands are quick, and though his words are not exaggerated he expects that they're enough to distract Caitlyn and Vi as he nudges the dagger under Graves' pillow. Gently, he squeezes his partner's hand.

"Just come back to me, Malcolm."

 

-=-=-

_They were not supposed to be here. An infamous thief and deadly assassin strolling so openly in Demacia? A terrible idea, but he loved it. There was a thrill to displaying themselves before they would disappear away, unable to be caught by anyone._

_Granoa Park was a place full of hedges filled to the brim with blooming flowers, undoubtedly encouraged to stay in blossom by enchantments. It was no less beautiful then, and at night there would be decorative lanterns lit. It was not quite sundown yet, but Twisted Fate was anticipating it. He knew that he was by far more inclined by romantic gestures than Evelynn, but she humored him in any case. For her, she preferred to express herself physically, and he welcomed that. It was a risky thing, but she would make his heart pound and he knew he was in deep, but hell he wanted this. He wanted her. She was deadly, secretive, and beautiful. It was difficult to not be enamored._

_He was in the middle of spinning her a tale, because it would usually give him a delighted snicker from her, her smiles sharper than any blade he'd seen. Twisted Fate was excellent at telling stories, and he did even better with proper motivation._

_It surprised him when she interrupted with, "Fate, you're the kind of man who does anything to get what he wants. I like that about you."_

_That was unusual. She did not often compliment, perhaps occasionally peppering her words by saying he was endearing, but usually he had to interpret her by body language. Eventually, he reached out, brushing her arm with the back of his knuckles. "Well, I'm mighty flattered, nightshade. What brought that on?"_

_Something was different. Off. Evelynn never seemed distracted. She was always focused, her eyes hardened and her smiles as fierce as his own were cocky. Tonight, she was thoughtful, and he would never know what was crossing her mind. Not when she took his hand, squeezing so oddly **gently** while she said, "It's been fun."_

_That startled him. He didn't move, not when she pressed a kiss so delicately to his neck before slipping away. Before he could think to chase her, Evelynn was already gone, disappearing into the shadows as night claimed the sunset._

 

-=-=-

 

For all of his near-captures and the times he's busted one of the crew out of various prisons, Twisted Fate has never been on the inside of the bars before. Not that he's really looking forward to being placed into a cell, but he isn't overly concerned either as Vi walks him forward through the department, taking him far into the back with his wrists and arms chained together. He's a little flattered that Caitlyn wanted to be sure he wouldn't just squirm his way free, believing that hard into his ability to wrangle himself out of most bonds. She isn't wrong, but it's still a bit delightful to see she knows it.

Vi stops in front of Twisted Fate's temporary holding cell, unlocking the chains and guiding him inside with a light shove. When she locks the door, Vi pauses, looking a little conflicted.

"Aw, punchout. Feelin' bad for little ol' me?" Twisted Fate teases, grinning at her.

"Not with that attitude," Vi grumbles. "Look, if anything changes about Graves' condition, we'll make sure you hear about it."

Terribly considerate of her. Twisted Fate tips his hat down and he replies quietly with, "Bless your heart."

"Is that the nice _bless your heart_ or the condescending one?"

"Hell, what's the fun of explaining it?" Twisted Fate answers wryly. "I'll be seein' you."

"Dinner's in four hours. Might as well get comfortable, Fate." Vi knocks her knuckles against the bars. "Without your cards, you're really here, you realize that?"

Twisted Fate rolls his shoulders back before he has a seat on the edge of his cot. "Guess the shock's not settled in yet. Say hello to the sheriff for me, will ya?"

That earns a snort from Vi before she's leaving. An interesting sore spot, but Twisted Fate isn't interested in exploiting it. Maybe that's the romantic in him; who knows? Either way, by this point, it's a waiting game.

He lays back onto the cot, tipping his hat down at an angle. It's uncomfortable as hell, and were he in any other situation than this own he'd have raised a fuss out of amusement for it. As it stands, he has bigger and better things to worry about. On the bright side, Malcolm is recovering nicely in the clinic. On the downside, there are still definitely pirates out there trying to kill the both of them, and if Twisted Fate doesn't actually _do_ something about it instead of gently dodging them, like he always has done with everything else in his life, then something worse might happen.

For ten years, all he's had to do was worry about himself, for the most part. There have been occasions in which he's been involved with someone else, much against his better judgment, but ultimately he's make choices that would determine his own future. He hasn't had to worry about someone else that much until Graves was back in his life.

It's an odd feeling. It terrifies him, but he wouldn't give this up. And he sure as hell isn't ready to ever say good-bye to Malcolm again.

Fate is in deep. _Has_ been in deep for so damned long.

 

-=-=-

 

_Not long after the heartbreak with Evelynn and being chased for awhile by Graves, he'd found another distraction._

_Yasuo, for all of the rumors and the display of laziness, was actually quite the gentleman. Every time Twisted Fate convinced him to have a roll in bed and join him, he was considerate and treated him well. It was interesting, downright odd, but he found himself appreciative of it. For every minute he spent like this, he started to realize how much of a good man Yasuo really was. Terribly ill-fitting of him to find company and comfort with Twisted Fate, but he didn't do anything to change his mind._

_A few months of traveling together, and they flirted too close for comfort. He knew how Yasuo looked at him, and Fate knew how much he was getting too comfortable with this._

_There was a night in which it was too close; he'd let Graves get too close, just to see what would happen, and Destiny was ready to shoot him apart. He fled in time, and the unease never quite left him that evening._

_"What happened?" Yasuo had asked when Fate found him, and Twisted Fate disliked that Yasuo could read even that much off of him._

_So he had said nothing, and embraced him, kissing him, slowly convincing him down into a bedroll, for them to couple together. It was a desperate attempt at a distraction, to convince himself that he was not bothered, that nothing about his old ex-partner could bother him anymore, that he was not still raw about Evelynn or Graves. Instead, he immersed himself into this, his legs clinging at the warrior's hips and inviting him in._

_His head had been swimming then, and he clutched tight, and at a rough thrust from Yasuo he didn't realize that he had been groaning, " **Malcolm.** "_

_When they finish -- and Yasuo had been kind enough to wait until they were done, ever the gentleman -- the disgraced swordsman tucked hair behind Twisted Fate's ear with sincere affection before asking him, "Who's Malcolm?"_

_He'd gone rigid, afraid. Afraid of himself, too much that was shared in so many ways. It was then that Twisted Fate did one of the things he was very skilled at._

_He disappeared, leaving a card behind._

_In too deep. Twisted Fate was always in too deep._

 

-=-=-

 

Of all things to wake up to, an explosion was probably listed as the third most likely thing to happen tonight. That does not mean, however, that Twisted Fate is any less startled when it occurs, and he falls rather ungracefully from his cot as his ears ring horribly. Slowly, Twisted Fate pushes himself up, coughing through the dust and debris that crumbles from the remains of the wall right next to his cell.

As he starts to brush off his shoulders and arms, he sees two figures step into view.

" _Ugh_ , that was supposed to be _way bigger_!"

"All things considered, kid, it didn't turn out too badly. You alive over there, Fate?"

More or less to his expectations. Twisted Fate chuckles to himself as he steps out what remains of the bars of his cell, taking off his hat just to shake off whatever had flown onto it from the blast. "All in one piece."

Miss Fortune stands in front of him, arms folded. Right behind her, it looks like she's recruited Jinx, who looks a little disappointed that the hole probably isn't bigger in the side of the police department.

"The rescue is much appreciated," Twisted Fate says. "Figure we got about three minutes til someone barges in. Don't suppose you fetched any cards before you got here?"

The pirate captain frowns and holds up a deck. "On my way here, matter of fact. C'mon."

Twisted Fate smiles at her before looking at Jinx. "You're lookin' as peppy as ever, spitfire."

"Why are we still talking? I thought we were gonna shoot this place up more!" Jinx says with a frustrated groan, pulling on her braids.

"I said _one_ rocket, kid. We're leaving," Fortune says, motioning for the both of them.

Twisted Fate gives Jinx a nudge on the way out. "Wouldn't fret about it. Chances are, you'll get a lot more wreckin' to do tonight."

Running from the police department into the night feels immensely familiar, and is a bit welcoming. So far, things are rolling more or less to his expectations, even if he hadn't counted on Fortune deciding on bringing Jinx into this matter. Still, the firepower isn't such a bad thing. He can make this work.

"Heard about Graves," Fortune says suddenly in the middle of their daring escape.

Twisted Fate doesn't say anything.

"Look, I made you an offer before. It still stands. If you want a little revenge, I can help you with that, Fate."

"I know you can," Twisted Fate answers.

"That why you let yourself get captured by the police?" Miss Fortune asks, raising her brow at him.

He shrugs and doesn't answer her. "You know where the rest of Gangplank's leftovers are?"

"I do," she answers, smiling wickedly, leading him down the street.

"Oh boy! Pirates!" Jinx clicks her tongue. "Who cares? If I wanted to shoot pirates, I'd hike it to Bilgewater. Guess what I don't ever feel like doing? _Hiking it to Bilgewater._ "

"You can't hike to an island in the _ocean_ ," Fortune points out flatly.

"Not with that attitude," Jinx says.

"Listen, kid, you got to cause a little mayhem with the cops." Their pace slows down from a jog and more to a hastened stroll, Miss Fortune confident that they won't be followed now. "You come with us, and I can pay you."

Jinx wrinkles her nose and hikes up her cannon. She makes a voice as she flaps Fishbones' jaw open and closed, " _Golly, with money, we could become respectable citizens, Jinx! Buy things instead of taking or blowing them up!_ " The gunner shakes her cannon and snaps at it, "Why do your ideas always suck?!"

The ensuing conversation Jinx is having with herself seems to baffle Fortune; the pirate captain looks at Twisted Fate, then gestures silently at Jinx, as if asking for help. That earns a chuckle from the gambler before he's putting a hand on Fishbones and lowering the cannon. 

"All right, I get it. Money doesn't mean a thing to you, and shootin' pirates sounds like a bore," Twisted Fate acknowledges. "Tell you what, though. Shooting up where they're hiding? That'd really irritate Caitlyn and Vi."

That earns a brightly invested look from Jinx. She grins wide enough that it almost looks like it's going to split her face open, and she hooks her skinny arms around Fate's elbow. "Gawrsh, you sweet talker. Go on."

He grins in return. "It would _really_ rile 'em up if they knew you helped me out, too. Breakin' me out, shooting pirates, an' who knows what else Graves and I will be up to after that?"

Jinx chews her lower lip, as if she's thinking deeply about it. " _You wanna know what I think?_ " she has Fishbones say before she punches her own gun. "Nobody cares, Fishbones! All right, I'm in."

"That's the spirit." Twisted Fate pats her hand approvingly. 

Eventually, they put enough distance between themselves and the police department, comfortably enough that the chance to be caught is incredibly low. Jinx is strutting with peppy energy, obviously pleased at the idea of angering law enforcement later on tonight. It leaves Fate and Fortune to conspire as he follows her down the road. It's not entirely smart to follow her, and he knows it, but so far this is going according to what he wants.

What he _needs._

"Nice to know you can talk sense into crazy somehow," Miss Fortune muses.

"Surprised you knew how to find her." Twisted Fate shrugs.

"So. You got yourself arrested. How did you figure I'd come for you?"

"You really want those pirates dead. And you know that I'm properly motivated now." Twisted Fate smiles with a bit of coldness to it, glaring at her. "Do I got you to thank for that?"

Fortune tilts her head. "You have something to tell me, Fate?"

"I always figured they were too smart about this whole damned mess. Too clever to corner us here and there. Maybe dumb enough to blame him and me, but someone givin' them directions? Plans?" Twisted Fate raises a brow at her. "Someone who's motivated to herd both of us, maybe. You tell me: what the hell did Gangplank do to make you wanna wipe him off of the damned map so bad?"

It's quiet a moment between them, and that tells Twisted Fate enough that he's right, that Miss Fortune had been finding ways to manipulate the remains of Gangplank's followers into this situation for her own benefit. There had always been an infamous rivalry between Gangplank and her that most had determined was over petty differences of how to manage Bilgewater's best interests. Clearly, it was more personal than just a fight of power. She wanted to remove every trace of loyalty to Gangplank by any means necessary, though Fate couldn't say why at all that is. 

"Well, let's just agree that it's personal now for both of us. You have payback for what happened with Graves, and I want them dead and rotting with the rest of the garbage," Fortune says coolly.

That's fine. He doubted that she was going to tell him anything. Whatever had happened, it's far too personal. Instead, Twisted Fate says, "Then we'll just focus on that til we part ways."

There's a pause before Miss Fortune says, her voice low and a shy bit softer, "You don't think I told them to kill either of you."

"Didn't cross my mind. You want us around to help get rid of 'em, and inviting your crew to Piltover would draw too much attention to yourself." He looks away from her, sighing to himself as he says, "Malcolm's just an idiot. In the meantime, we should be focusing on dealing with our friends. Where are they?"

"I have it mapped out. One of the older districts has an old warehouse. Used to belong ot Viktor, but it's been long since cleared of anything they could have made use of. Not that they'd be smart to do it anyway." Fortune places her hands on her hips. "Jinx is a good fill in, but we need a little more firepower."

"Didn't think that far ahead?"

"I was counting on Graves being here," she admits, frowning to herself.

Twisted Fate rubs his chin, then grins sharply. "Then you best just leave it to me."

 

-=-=-

 

_"I said I'd buy you a drink, didn't I?"_

_Yasuo shrugged. "You did."_

_It'd been months since he last saw Yasuo. Meeting him again shortly after reuniting with Malcolm and making amends had been an interesting time. It was odd to watch Graves become so immensely jealous that way, something he had never anticipated on somehow. It was not as if Twisted Fate ever made any secret about how he enjoyed becoming entangled with another, but things were so different this way, being **romantically** involved._

_Here, he felt he owed Yasuo something._

_Per his promise, Fate bought him a bottle. Ionian plum wine, not cheap either._

_"You were doing more than just running from him," Yasuo said, watching Twisted Fate carefully._

_"Nah, it was mostly just runnin'. He did wanna kill me, remember?"_

_Yasuo sighed. "Fate."_

_"Look, quickdraw." Twisted Fate removed his hat, running his fingers through his hair. "I **am** sorry. Duckin' out on you like I did. Suppose I thought I was more over things than I really was, back then. It was never that you weren't good enough. You aren't like me; you're a good man."_

_"Some would argue."_

_"I'm pretty good at arguing back, when it suits me." Twisted Fate poured him a cup. "I liked what we did together. Liked you more than I probably should've let myself."_

_There was a pause from the warrior, then his hand gently rested on Fate's shoulder. "I don't begrudge you for how things turned out. I do miss you, but if this is what makes you happy--"_

_" **Hell** , Yasuo..."_

_"--then I want you to have it. Hold onto it, and don't let it go."_

 

-=-=-

 

"And you brought along one of the fuzzballs," Miss Fortune says with a sigh.

"Aw c'mon, you didn't even bring the one that makes the bombs!" Jinx throws her hands up in the air.

Affectionately, Twisted Fate ruffles Gnar's ears. "Look, you want someone who can take a lot of hits or not? Gnar's not a bad fit. 'Sides, it was kind of a pain to sneak him outta Heimer's lab. Not a fan of motion-detection sensors myself."

"Erraya nabbo," Gnar says, pleased to have his ears rubbed.

"Eloquent as ever, boomer." Fate pats his head. "Anyhow, that's what we got right now. It's about high time we get--"

Cutting him off abruptly are a series of small explosions around in the district. It causes a startled yell from Gnar whose fur poofs up before he growls, and Twisted Fate clutches onto his hat while he glances at Miss Fortune; she looks concerned, undoubtedly because she did not plan for this.

Jinx, meanwhile, looks delighted. "Oh wow! Who could have set off all those bombs?! I wonder!"

"It was you," Fortune concludes flatly, looking less worried and more annoyed.

"It was ME! It is a very well known piratical fact that pirates are scared of loud noises and fire."

Fortune rubs the bridge of her nose, clearly regretting her choice in recruiting the smaller gunner. "No. No, it's not."

"Pff, what do you know? I bet you didn't even graduate from Pirate University," Jinx says, rolling her eyes. "You don't even have an eye-patch."

Before Miss Fortune can say another word, Twisted Fate is taking the bounty hunter aside and muttering, "Look, nothin' we can do about that now. You take us where we gotta go, and she can help unleash hell on those bastards. Remember that. All this is the problem of the law now. You and me, we got pirates to take out and we ain't lettin' them get away."

For a moment, Fortune is quiet, then frowns and pulls her arm free. "You don't need to remind me. I know why I'm here."

"Then let's get a move on."

It isn't much of a team, but the way Twisted Fate figures it'll be enough. He doesn't need to kill all of the pirates, just confront them enough until he finds the one specifically responsible for shooting Graves. At this point, anyway, there can't be more than maybe a dozen or so men left. Between the four of them, it should be fairly simple to get rid of what's left. What that means for Miss Fortune is that Gangplank will be well and truly dead, a vile hatred that's forced her to play her hand in a way that's caused one hell of a whirlwind in Bilgewater. Something Twisted Fate is glad he hasn't had to witness.

In the distance behind them, eventually, are the smoking remains of Jinx's various bombs. He doubts that it's left too much lasting impact to really have troubled much other than general chaos, and it was a risky move to cause her to become bored while he'd gone to grab Gnar. Still, nothing to be done about it now.

Instead, all he can do is focus on this. Dealing with what's left.

When they arrive to the warehouse, it doesn't look like much, but it is fairly well fortified. Few things would be getting inside.

"All right, kid. Time for you to blow down the front door," Fortune instructs Jinx.

"Yyyyeah, about that. I kinda sorta maybe used my rockets and junk for those little booms before we go here." Jinx grins and shrugs. "Honest mistake! Who has time to _count_ their explosives?"

If looks could kill, Twisted Fate suspects that Miss Fortune's glare at Jinx would have caused her to been a rotting corpse hours ago. Intervening gently, Twisted Fate clears his throat and says, "Look, I figure openin' the front door is out of the question. So, here's an idea: I go in, cause a fuss, and while they're givin' me the chase, you three try to stir up trouble out here. Figure after enough time, Gnar oughta be able to get large enough to make this easier."

Fortune seems oddly conflicted looking, and Twisted Fate can't picture as to why. What is it that's eating at her? She's a clever woman, _incredibly_ smart. Hell, for all that she's used Graves and him for her own means, it's a little hard to not respect her for it. Is it catching up with her now? Or is it something else?

Eventually, she turns her head. "You do what you have to, then we'll come in when we can."

"You heard her, spitfire," Fate calls out to Jinx. "Give it a few minutes, then unleash hell on these bastards. Got it?"

" _Finally!_ " Jinx answers. "Sheesh, it's like I was waiting a year for this thing to be done!"

After taking a moment to adjust his hat, Twisted Fate snaps out a card from his sleeve, weaving it easily between his fingers. This has been well practiced throughout his life, and comes naturally. Seconds pass, and he's given true vision of everything: out here behind him waiting at his back are Gnar, Miss Fortune, and Jinx. Inside, he sees them, all of them, the pirates-- including the bruised, familiar face of the man that shot Malcolm.

It seizes him suddenly. Twisted Fate is normally so calculated, so careful in his planning; even when he makes up things as he goes, he can usually think just five paces ahead of almost everyone else enough to keep him alive. To abruptly feel such blind _anger_ in his heart is strange. It burns up his chest, and he can see nothing but red. This man, this is the one that nearly killed Graves, and he can't live with that, how afraid he'd been.

The impulse takes him, and Twisted Fate places himself right in the middle of one of the rooms, glaring at him face to face.

The pirate looks confused, and before he can say anything, Twisted Fate is socking him in the jaw. He isn't as strong as Graves, but he isn't weak, and it's enough to make the man stumble back.

"You're a dead son of a bitch," Fate promises coldly, strutting forward as he takes out another card.

"He's here!!" the pirate calls down the hall, reaching for his pistol.

"Not so fast, dead man." With a red card in hand, Twisted Fate throws it, too quick to be caught. As soon as it makes impact with the pirate's hand, it explodes, rendering it useless and missing a few fingers.

The man screams. That's a reasonable response, but it doesn't make Fate pause or lose his cool. He keeps approaching, only pausing when he hears footsteps running down the hall after him. He frowns a moment, then quietly curses himself for getting so wrapped up in the moment. Rushing in like this, stupid with anger -- shit, that's a Malcolm move if there's ever been one. When did he get this dumb?

Yet, when he sees the pirate run away, clutching what remains of his hand, Twisted Fate can't let him go and he isn't going to wait for anything else. He runs after him, taking out another card.

Outside, he can hear the familiar muffled noise of Jinx giggling as she shoots. Hopefully soon, Gnar will make it to his large form and knock this damned place down. In the meanwhile, he pursues the running pirate, pushing himself to catch up with him before flinging a golden card at his back to make him freeze in his tracks.

"You ain't goin' anywhere, friend!" That rage overtakes him again, and he finds himself barreling into the man, slamming him against the wall. Twisted Fate, honestly, doesn't have time to mess around. There will be pirates upon him in a minute or two if Gnar doesn't break in first, and he could have just killed this man with one swipe of his card, but he's filled with this need to make it _personal._ Because it is personal.

It has been for as long as he's known Graves.

The pirate has a knife out, swinging clumsily at Twisted Fate; the thief manages to grab his wrist and they struggle against one another for a moment. The adrenaline in the pirate makes him stronger, temporarily, but Twisted Fate's fury keeps him going forward, keeps him honest, and he grits his teeth as he finally manages to wrench the knife out of his hands. Holding the blade now, the river man plunges it into the pirate's gut, who chokes in surprise.

With an angry hiss, Twisted Fate pulls it out before gutting him again, making sure it counts, making sure he's a dead man. The blood spills over his hands and arms, and he knows he's going to hate that later, but right now he just needs to make sure this man is dead for what was almost _taken._

The pirate falls to the floor. Which is comforting, considering his remaining comrades come bursting into the hallway.

They have their guns and blades out, ready to kill. One doesn't wait, and strikes Twisted Fate across the face with the end of his pistol, sharp enough to split a lip and leave a bruise. The force causes him to stumble back against the wall, and Twisted Fate winces, wiping blood from his lip.

"Ah, c'mon. You're really gonna get yourselves killed because you're mad your boss is dead?" Fate mutters.

"Get him!" another one shouts.

Well, that answers that. There isn't anywhere left to run, and he feels his arms become wrenched behind his back by hands stronger than he is. Twisted Fate winces at the strength as he's forced down onto his knees. Another hand grabs a fistful of hair, forcing his head back to expose his throat.

Through the floor, Twisted Fate can _feel_ the sheer force of Gnar's roar as he finally takes on his large form. Not long after, he's breaking down the wall a few feet away, bursting in and ready to go on his rampage while Jinx is squealing in delighted laughter: "Almost as good as rockets!"

What remains of the pirates turn to fight, save for the three that hold him down. There isn't any conceivable way for Fortune, Gnar, or Jinx to immediately come to his rescue, not when a cutlass is pressed against his neck.

"Give our regards t'the Bearded Lady," the pirate growls at him.

Then the pirate's arm that holds the blade explodes shortly after a familiar noise explodes into the air, his limb missing entirely. His mouth goes agape, shocked before he's shouting, not able to quite process what happened. Twisted Fate's eyes follow where the gunfire came from, and it's neither Fortune or Jinx.

Dragging himself into the warehouse is Graves, a new Destiny in his arms, pristine and beautiful and dangerous. Wordlessly, he aims; the pirates are releasing Twisted Fate, trying to get out of the way, but it's far too late for that. Graves fires, and their legs are shredded, putting them down to the floor before he's reloading.

"That's some timing, Malcolm," Twisted Fate says, slowly getting back onto his feet. "What--"

The front of his coat is grabbed, and Graves is pulling him down into a rough kiss. It hurts his lip, and Fate quickly doesn't care. There's mayhem, destruction, a giant angry prehistoric yordle, a bounty hunter determined to claim the lives of pirates, and a crazy girl giggling at the chaos, and _this_ is is what Twisted Fate focuses on. A damn kiss, and it's enough to anchor him. It might be stupid as hell but he _is_ a romantic.

"Since when did you go lookin' for this kind of trouble without me?" Graves grumbles against his mouth, sounding weary. It's troubling, but Twisted Fate is finds himself simply glad to have him nearby again.

"Since I got stupid 'cuz of you. You never told me it was infectious. Any of those doctors at that fancy clinic mention it?"

Graves snorts and kisses him again. "The hell did I do to deserve a wiseass like you?"

Twisted Fate can't stop the fond smile that forms. He wouldn't stop it right now if he wanted to. "You ain't a saint yourself, hotshot."

"Shame on me for fallin' for a bastard like you anyway."

Carefully, he places one of Graves' arms around his shoulders, helping to supplement his strength as best as he can. "C'mon. Let's get you out of here. Fortune can finish the job."

It isn't easy, but he helps guide Graves outside to let Miss Fortune complete her task, her decision to wipe what remains of those who once convinced themselves to follow Gangplank, either motivated out of fear, necessity, or respect, perhaps sometimes all of the above. If she's come all this way to destroy them in Piltover, Twisted Fate cannot imagine there are any left who dare claim to keep their loyalty. 

He sits Graves down, then presses his forehead against the gunman's, sighing. "How in the hell did you manage to find us, anyhow?"

"What, you think all those explosions were too subtle?" Graves asks wryly with a wince as he settles down, clutching his side. "Found that knife you left me, broke the lock, and left. Went to see Ceecee to get Destiny. After that, couldn't quite figure where you'd have gone to, not til the fireworks went off anyway. Easy enough to follow after that."

"Stubborn bastard." Twisted Fate sighs against him.

Graves cracks a grin at him. "Lousy thief."

As he sits down next to his partner, Twisted Fate frowns and tries not to think about the blood drying on his hands and clothes, sticky and stinking of copper. It's not an unfamiliar scent by any means, but attacking from a distance usually doesn't mean he gets his hands this dirty and hasn't needed to in awhile. Not that he regrets gutting that pirate. The rage barely waning from his heart tells him he'd do it again. Being so damned impulsive is such a foolish thing, and he can't imagine how the hell Graves lives his life this way, but it's kept him alive so far, he supposes.

But he knows what it means. Knows most of all, how much he feels.

They watch as the warehouse eventually goes up into flames. It doesn't get bad before Miss Fortune and the others leave. The familiar weight of Gnar is scrambled into Twisted Fate's lap as the yordle settles down tiredly, murmuring _teff_ in his garbled attempted in saying Twisted Fate's name. Jinx is watching the flames with interest, her grin manic and pleased in the moment. He gives it about five minutes until she's bored again.

Miss Fortune approaches, dusting off her arms. "I appreciate the help, boys."

"You could really show your gratitude in some coin. Or boots," Twisted Fate points out, his exhaustion not about to stop him from making remarks.

"We'll see." Fortune pauses, then says, "You could always come back to Bilgewater, both of you. There'd be work, plenty of it."

"Right, 'cuz this was flawless," Graves grouses.

"That's soundin' like a no." Twisted Fate chuckles tiredly. "Not much interested in goin' back anytime soon, anyway."

"Have it your way." Miss Fortune shrugs and turns around to gaze out to the flames.

The warehouse burns, dealing with whatever bodies are left inside, but by the looks of it no flame burns as bright as whatever hatred she holds for Gangplank and his men. Whatever nightmare hangs over Miss Fortune's head, somehow it isn't done. Not yet.

Far as Twisted Fate figures, it has nothing to do with him.

 

-=-=-

 

The night hasn't ended just yet. They part ways, all of them; getting bored with the fire, Jinx had left before anyone said a word, determined to continue to wreak havoc in her own way and Miss Fortune has a boat to catch to make her way back to Bilgewater. It leaves them with Gnar, which is something Twisted Fate will confront with another day. Instead, they need a roof over their heads and Graves needs time to recover.

They can't return to the hotel room, not like this. It's a small loss, all things considered; Twisted Fate instead leads them off into one of the safe houses he'd procured in Piltover. It's not a short walk, but it's a place to be. Dusty as hell inside, but not badly furnished. During his days of fleeing from many people, Graves included, but there's no real purpose for its secret from him now and he isn't particularly worried about Gnar, who is gently deposited on a dusty armchair to sleep off the events of the evening before Malcolm is guided to the bed. Over the course of years, Twisted Fate's stored much as he's needed at every location, and he quietly thanks himself for being mindful in the past for having kept painkillers.

He just never thought he'd end up using them on Graves. Thankfully, it causes him to pass out shortly after, leaving Fate to clean himself off of blood and change his clothes. Whatever he had stored in here smells a bit like mothballs, but that can be dealt with later.

As deep into the night it is, Twisted Fate doesn't sleep. Can't, really. After dealing with the pirates as long as they have, it's over for now. A bit of thrill in their lives is expected, and even in the past he felt comfortable with Graves at his back, looking out for him, but outright risking his life like that is a bit flattering and incredibly frightening. And how ready Fate is to throw reason out the window for payback.

He fathoms that he'd do the same thing all over again, even if given a second chance. Graves would agree.

It's early morning, probably, when he finally hears Graves shift in bed, grumbling awake. His own eyelids feel a bit heavy, but he's far from eager to find himself in bed. Hesitantly, Twisted Fate lowers the newspaper in his hands, having been in the middle of a crossword. It's easily forgotten about.

"Well well, welcome back to the wakin' world," Twisted Fate says, chuckling. "How you feelin'?"

There's a confused look in Graves' eyes as he blinks, still exhausted and bleary. He peers around, as if baffled as to how he's ended up in this room; that's fair, he's probably still dazed as hell from the painkillers. Eventually, Graves looks back at Fate and squints at him.

"Damn, you're pretty," Malcolm slurs out, clearly still inebriated from the medication but Twisted Fate admits to himself he's a little charmed. "Do I know you? I know you."

Definitely still affected. Twisted Fate takes in a deep breath and manages to not laugh. "We're partners, Malcolm," he says, standing up to pour Graves a glass of water.

"As in business partners or...?"

"Oh, you know. Little of column A, little of column B," Twisted Fate answers, grinning. 

Graves rubs his face. "Really? How long?"

"C'mon, sit up a bit." Gently, Fate helps the burlier man squirm into a sitting position, at least enough that he can drink some water. "Known you a real long time. Only just started the romantic part recently, though. Here, take it slow."

Graves doesn't immediately drink. Instead, he's looking at Twisted Fate, as if enamored, and Fate is horridly endeared by it, struggling to not let his amusement show too much. Eventually, Graves takes a small sip and mutters to himself, "Have we kissed?"

"That and then some," Fate says, smiling a little more warmly.

" _Shit_." Graves puts the cup down. "I hit the jackpot."

Fate sits down at the edge of the matters, resting his hand on Graves' leg. "You charmer."

"You're stayin' here, right?"

"Long as you want me," Twisted Fate answers, less playful and more sincerely.

"I gotta be real dumb to wanna throw you out," Graves says, rubbing his eyes.

"Well, you can be real dumb sometimes." He pauses, then says more quietly, "That don't mean I don't love you, though."

" _You love me?_ "

Twisted Fate finally laughs. "Shoot, you are adorable like this." He shifts himself so he can press himself at bit at Graves' side, who places a strong arm around his shoulders. "I swear." He shakes his head. "You get some rest."

"So damned lucky," Graves mutters as he starts to drift off again.

He looks up for a moment, watching Malcolm fall back asleep. It's a relief to see him awake, even if it's only for a moment and completely out of it. It brings him enough comfort to let himself finally relax against his partner, the weight of his arm warm and familiar by now. Exhaling heavy, Fate closes his eyes. It's been hell of a ride, but it's good to know that this is coming to an end for awhile before their next inevitable adventure happens to hit them in the face. A small breather is more than welcome.

A small rest.

When he wakes again, he isn't certain how much time has passed. An hour, maybe more than that, but he's feeling fingers in his hair, thick and lacking any grace, rough as they comb through but the affection still there. Tiredly, he smiles to himself, shifting slightly to press his face against Graves' shoulder.

"Ought'a be sleeping," Twisted Fate mutters against him.

"You're one to talk," Graves grumbles, sounding less medicated.

That earns a low chuckle as Twisted Fate rubs his chest absently. "Don't give me none of that."

"Hmm." A low rumble is earned from the gunman. Graves tucks some hair behind Fate's ear. "Remember us talkin' a bit ago."

"Yeah? 'Cuz you were _real_ sweet." Twisted Fate grins. "No way you'd normally be that nice."

"I don't remember everything," he admits, not quite sounding sheepish but close enough. "Remember what _you_ said."

That causes Twisted Fate to hesitate. The hand in his hair doesn't stop stroking, which he is quietly glad for.

"That how you feel?" Graves says.

"Hell, Malcolm, you know it is."

"Just occurred me," Graves continues, a bit more awkwardly, "that we just never-- you know. Never said it."

Twisted Fate shrugs. "You're more of a man who does action, anyway. You don't gotta--"

"Tobias, I love you too, all right?" Graves cuts him off.

"I. Uh. Or you could, you know." Few things take him off guard, but there have been times that Graves has managed it thus far and he's rendered speechless for a moment. Twisted Fate buries his face against Graves' shoulder for a moment. It's not that he's had any doubt in how that sentiment has felt, especially not since Malcolm had gotten so ridiculously jealous about Yasuo. But hearing it is another thing entirely.

Against his forehead, he feels Graves laugh, pressing his lips there. "Damn, all I gotta do is kiss you in public places and say that to shut you up, huh?"

"You were a _lot_ more romantic when you were drugged up, I'll have you know," Twisted Fate mutters. "You said I was pretty."

"I must've been real out of it, 'cuz we both know you're a slimy little snake."

"Yeah, but you _love_ this slimy little snake, so who's the real loser?" Twisted Fate says with a smirk.

There's a moment as Graves considers before he's pressing another kiss to Fate's head. "Gangplank," he says, laughing a little.

"Gangplank," Twisted Fate agrees, grinning. "Must suck to be dead."

"Wouldn't rightly know. We seem to luck out in that department."

"Well, ain't like there's anything to worry about with him or the rest of his ingrates anyhow," Fate says.

It grows quiet between the two of them, and that's fine enough. Twisted Fate closes his eyes again, welcoming the comforting feeling of his partner's hand in his hair. Maybe it's the romantic in him, but he feels a certain warmth in his chest as well.

He'll hold onto this for as long as he'll be alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo boy we're finally done! Just over a year old. Thank you all who have stuck out and read this and enjoyed it. I really loved writing these two, and I hope to touch on writing these two again sometime. I hope you all enjoyed the entire "On the Way to Piltover" storyline.


End file.
